Shirley and Sherlock
by GiraffePanda2
Summary: Lestrade has a niece named Celia. She is a fan of Sherlock Holmes, but a nervous wreck! So with her magic hiding skills and multiple personas she will become Shirley! The look-a-like female Sherlock vigialnte. Kicking butt and taking names. Not as easy as it sounds.
1. Shirley

**I've read lots of Halloween stories about Sherlock, so I decided to do one too! This is only part Halloween though. This is my second story I've done. I don't own anything, except for Celia and . I'm American so sorry if there are a few Americanisms in there.**

"Sherlock, we are going to be late!" John shouted. They were on their way to a Halloween party at the Scotland Yard, and John didn't want to be late. He _hated_ being late. John tugged at his costume, and sighed. He wished Sherlock would hurry up. "Look, are you coming or not?" John shouted back up the stairs, as he was waiting for Sherlock at the door. "Coming!" He yelled back and Sherlock slowly came down the stairs. John stifled a laugh at Sherlock's costume, but was caught. He glared at his flat mate and swept by him, calling for a cab. Once one was called, they stepped inside and John said to the cabbie, "Scotland Yard."

"I don't see why we had to come." Sherlock muttered as they entered the police station. "Because we were invited and it was the polite thing to do. Now shut up and behave." John muttered back. Sometimes the World's greatest detective could act so childish at times, it was unbelievable. The doors opened and they entered into the costume party. Lestrade, spotting them, hurried over and said, "Hey guys, glad you could make it. Great costumes." Lestrade was dressed as a vampire with fake blood drawn on his mouth. "You too." John replied while Sherlock looked around, bored already. He disliked his costume and was now being forced to celebrate a holiday that was stupid and dull and boring.

"Well, if it isn't the Freak." Donovan said, walking up to them. She was dressed in a butterfly costume, with fake wings attached on her back. "Who invited you?"

"I did." Lestrade told her sternly, before Sherlock could say anything back to her. Sherlock smirked and said, "Is that Anderson over there?" Donovan's head whipped to look where his finger was pointing and she blushed when she realized she had been tricked. She opened her mouth and John snapped, "Oh, bug off!" Lestrade looked at him before getting the joke and chuckled. Sherlock gave a small smile. Maybe tonight wasn't going to be so bad after all. Little did he know, that tonight was going to get a whole lot more exciting.

In fact, it was only about 40 minutes into the party when Lestrade got a call and shouted out, "We got a robbery down on Breeding Street!" Sherlock's ears perked up from where he was sitting. It was just a robbery, but maybe they would leave early. Sherlock stood up and crossed the room, to where Lestrade was. He gave Sherlock a glance and said, "No, no Sherlock, there hasn't been a murder." _It doesn't matter what happened,_ Sherlock thought to himself, _as long as it kept him busy_. He already made fun of Anderson and Donovan and had 'observed' almost everyone in the room.

He looked for John, and spots him talking to a bunch of other people wearing doctor and nurses costumes, much like John's. He didn't show any signs of having heard the announcement. Sherlock sighed and then jumped a little when he heard Lestrade's ringtone.

Lestrade picks up and says, "Hello?" There's some talking on the other end of the phone and he frowns. "Okay, I'm on my way. Thanks, bye." Sighing, he beckons a couple of police officers (who were dressed as ninja's) and tells them, "We got a vigilante." Sherlock smiles at this point. He turns around and heads towards the door. John won't miss him for a few minutes.

"Crap." She mumbled. The girl got up from where she had fallen in the alleyway and brushed herself off. She groaned slightly when she saw a small tear on the hem of her coat. _Great_, she thought to herself, _my costume's ruined_. She sighed and moved into the shadows. She waited at the perfect place, where it gave her the view of her captured crooks and hid her away from prying eyes. She sat across the street by a tree which desperately need water and waited. She saw a man approach the villains, followed by a police car. Smiling, her ice blue eyes lit up, and her wind tossed her black curly locks, she knew that man, oh yes she did! That was her hero.

Sherlock observed the villains, (Lestrade told him later that they had robbed several banks and had been wanted for a while) and sighed. He let his gaze wonder and noticed movement in the shadows, across the street. He ran across the streets to where the shadows lay. There was nothing there. Giving a little grunt of disappointment he turned to walk back, and noticed a little figure standing on the rooftop. It was gone within a blink of an air, and all that remain where the echoes of a laugh.

Celia slumped against her wall and slid to the floor. She had used the fire escape again, not wanting her elderly (but nosy) neighbor (Mrs. Gold) to see her. She removed the wig and let her brown hair fall from where it had been contained. Celia got up and moved towards the bathroom. She removed her contacts and stared at herself again with brown eyes. She stepped out of the bathroom to hang up her coat, scarf and, finally, the stupid hat she has to wear. Gosh that was a stupid looking hat. Ever since her friends heard about Celia being a fan of Sherlock Holmes, she had been bombarded with things that were 'Sherlocky'. There's the hat, the coat, the scarf, the wig, the contacts, and she has have _at least_ a hundred mystery books. She grabbed a towel and turned on the shower. While it was annoying, it was pretty nice to have a disguise ready at hand though. It was the perfect disguise, no one would think it's her, and NO one would guess it was a girl under the mask. Plus, she gets to watch Sherlock's reaction to trying to find her. _She had been always very good at hiding_, she thought to herself, as steam filled the room. Always winning in hide-n-go-seek. And she loved to watch the kids try and find her, she loved that she beat them, that she was cleverer than them. It made all the times her mother yelled at her a little bit less meaningful.

But what scared her about Sherlock, is that she thought she might actually not be able to hide from him. Oh well, what has she to lose? Celia chuckled to herself. She slid off her clothes and stepped into the shower. She stood there, letting the water run over her face for a few minutes thinking. She said out aloud suddenly, "Crap. I think I might lose."

Sherlock climbed the stairs of 221b Baker Street and found John waiting for him, sitting in his chair. John stood up and glared at Sherlock. He simply ignored John and went towards his room. John called after him, "At least, next time, take me with you!" Sherlock smiled as he shut his door. But the smile didn't last for very long, because he still didn't know who the vigilante was, and it annoyed him. Sighing, he fell back onto his bed and thought of the details of what he saw that night. He saw that the criminals were handcuffed and not just cheap ones, but police ones, so the vigilante had to have police access. All of the villains had bruises and a couple of broken bones. The vigilante was well-rehearsed in fighting. But the patterns were uneven, so the fighter knew how to fight, but fought dirty. And then there was that shadow… Sherlock shakes his head to get rid of the weird thoughts about the shadow and tries again.

The shadow was about 5'5. The laugh, a girl's, and the girl had been wearing a trench coat, he knew that much, but nothing else. But the girl was fast, and agile.

Conclusion: The vigilante was a woman, 5'5, agile and fast, strong and a very good fighter.

Sherlock scowled, he'd just have to wait until morning until he can find out more. Wait, maybe John will let him experiment with the microwavable popcorn again.

Sherlock stormed into the police station at exactly 9:00 a.m. Lestrade would be here no doubt and he was getting bored. Sherlock pushed open the door, only to find Lestrade arguing with a teenager.

"No." He said to her firmly. "Oh, come on! Uncle Lessy, you promised!" She pouted, her brown eyes going wide and a pitiful face came on. Lestrade sighed and handed her a key and said, "Fine, but be careful! Don't mess anything up!" The girl jumped up and kissed her uncle on the cheek, "Oh, thank you Uncle Lessy!" She turned around and ran into Sherlock. She wasn't that tall so she had to lift her head to look at him, as soon as their eyes met the girl's started get really nervous and she managed to stammer out "U-um, so-so sorry Mr. Holmes. I wasn't w-watching where I-I was going." The girl put her head down and pushed past him, hurrying over to where the file room was.

Sherlock gave Lestrade an odd look and asked, "Uncle Lessy?" Lestrade opened his mouth but he cut him off, "Whatever, it doesn't matter; just show me to where the criminals are kept." He sighed got up to show Sherlock the criminals.

Celia took a deep breath. She ran into Sherlock Holmes. _The Sherlock Holmes_. What the bloody heck was he doing here? Calming herself down, Celia took a look at the case files of all the wanted criminals. She looked down the list until she found her man. Suddenly, her voice seemed a little bit colder and bigger as she said out aloud in an American accent, "Well, well, well, time to save the day again Shirley."

Sherlock stood in front of the criminal's cell and asked them, "Describe what you saw that night." The three grown men shared a look and the one covered in tattoos said, "Well, there was this black figure, and at first we hadn't seen it and we're just mind' in our own business." The black man interrupted him, "She attacked outta nowhere. At first she was there, and then she was there. By the time we knew what happened, she was gone."

Sherlock sighed and said, "You know, it would go a lot easier for you if you would tell the truth." Sherlock leaned closer and hissed, "Tell me the truth. What did you see?"

The guy in the corner spoke up after the silence following Sherlock's threat. "Fine, we saw a demon. A bloody demon that fought like nobody's business. After she handcuffed us, I asked her name, she answered me, and she was kinda surprised. She thought for a moment and said "Call me Sherlock." We all laughed and laughed thinking about such a stupid name. And-" Sherlock interrupted the man. "Forgot about that part, what did she look like?" Sherlock would worry about that part later.

The three men shared a look and the tattooed one said, "She looked like you. Got blue eyes dark curls and Bob here wasn't finished. After we laughed she said, 'Fine, fine, stupid name, call me Shirley.'"

Sherlock was silent for a few moments. He continued to ask them question for an hour, but only learned that she had an American Accent.

Leading up to the day before Halloween, the vigilante had struck 3 more times. Sherlock had exhausted himself trying to find her. Little did he know, she was right under his nose.

Sherlock and John entered the Scotland Yard, looking for Lestrade. Sherlock had a possible lead to who was the vigilante. On his way to Lestrade's office, Sherlock bumped into Lestrade's niece, Celia. She had been reading some case files her uncle let her borrow and hadn't noticed the great detective. The files flew everywhere, and Celia jumped to grab them. Once she noticed Sherlock she began to stutter out an apology. "So-sorry Mr. Holmes." She looked down and began to pick up the files. Sherlock gave an exasperated look and helped her. "Oh, no, please, you-you don't have t-to help!" Celia protested, stopping Sherlock. But it was too late. He had seen the files.

They were the files of wanted criminals. Sherlock looked at Celia with curiosity. She gulped. She was so gonna lose.

_What to do, what to do?_ She asked herself, _choose a persona? No, it would give me away, just stay calm, and stay calm!_ She finished picking up the papers and was about to scurry away when he stopped her with a question. "Why do you have those files?" Celia gulped and turned around, "U-um, because you s-see, I enjoy r-reading a-about mysteries and I'm a-a huge fan of mysteries and I-I read a bunch of books, s-so I thought to take a-a- look at some f-files." She still refused to look up at his face and meet his gaze.

Sherlock wanted to ask more questions but John pulled him away. "Why were you tormenting that poor girl?" His flat-mate asked. "I was just asking a question." He told John, "She was the one who was all nervous, I mean; you think that I just convicted her for murder or something."

After making sure the crime-solving duo turned the corner and were gone, Celia ran back outside, where she called a cab. Sighing, she finally calmed herself down and took a look back at the files. She kept scrolling, and scrolling until she saw the name "Gopher". He was the head of a big underground dog-fighting ring, and Celia (Shirley) wanted to take him down, even though he was the biggest hit she was going to make so far. She had only been doing hits on people who did small drug business.

The cab stopped outside her flat and Celia got out, after paying the cabbie. She climbed the stairs and unlocked her door. She closed it and then flopped down on the couch. Celia was thinking she knew she shouldn't be Shirley anytime soon. What if Sherlock found out about her? He was already suspicious when he saw the files. She didn't want to think about what would happen to her if Sherlock did catch her.

The press had had a field day with the 'Sherlock' vigilante. They had so many stories but they were disproven when Celia (Shirley) had struck and Sherlock had an alibi. Now a bunch of speculation was going around. Celia was confidant no one would guess she was the vigilante though. No one, but Sherlock Holmes. She had tried had tried to throw him off with her stuttering. Then again, she always stuttered when she was nervous. So of course when meeting her hero she would stutter. But she wasn't afraid of him when she was Shirley.

Whenever she was in a 'persona' she was that person, and Celia was forgotten. She had always been good at acting. Her only talents: Acting and Hiding. She had created her 'personas' because she had always been so shy and scared. She had needed to be brave. So she created her three different 'personas'. Well, at first it was only tow, but then she added Shirley, who had been an accident. There was Megan and Toby. Yes, there was a boy, but she only used him once or twice. She liked Megan more. Besides, when she tries to disguise herself as Toby it takes forever.

Celia got up, sighing as she went, and walked over to her bed. She grabbed the journal that was on the pillow, took the pen from the nightstand and recorded the day's events. By the time she was finished, it was night and time to execute her plan.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf. The time had come. He knew that the vigilante was going to strike tonight, and he had an idea on which criminal was next on the list. He called out to John, "Come on, I know where to go. I know where the vigilante will strike next." "Oh, you mean Shirley?" John asked, grabbing his coat. "Must you call her that?" Sherlock grumbled as they called a cab. John chuckled. Sherlock had refused to call the vigilante by her 'name'. He said it was an embarrassment and stupid to call oneself after Sherlock. They were just copying him and eventually they would get caught. John just thought that Sherlock didn't like it because he was Sherlock Holmes, the world's only Consulting Detective, and Shirley was making fun of his name by calling herself the girl name of Sherlock.

They sat in silence for the rest of the ride until they stopped outside of an old abandon building. For some reason, John thought he heard barking in the distance. After paying the cabbie, they got out of the car and John gazed around him. He could have sworn he saw a figure standing on top of the roof.

"Crap." Shirley muttered, climbing down the fire escape of the building. She had just spotted Sherlock and John gets out of their cab and was very angry. "Why can't they just leave me be?" She asked out aloud. Shirley suddenly clamped her hand over her mouth. She cannot believe she just asked something out aloud. She didn't whisper it or mutter or anything! _Crap!_ She had said it in her loud voice as usual. _Snap, Crap, snap, snap, snap! _Shirley ducked into the building just as Sherlock rounded the corner.

Panting from her nerves she debated with herself rather or not to leave. If she left, that would mean she would be safe. But that would also mean that the dogs would still be tortured. If she stayed she might get caught, but the dogs would be safe. It wasn't that hard to choose. Shirley ran to where the dogs were, not making a sound. The barking grew louder and more ferocious. Shirley slowly went down some stairs and into a filthy, filthy room, littered with metal cages, empty bowls, and dogs. Oh the dogs! There were Rottweiler's and pit bulls and German Shepherds and many, many other mutts and breeds. Shirley wrinkled her nose at the smell. She crept closer to cage where a sleeping German shepherd was. When she got too close, however, it jumped up and started to bark. She backed away and glanced at the door, where she thought the fighting was. It was all the way and the other end of the room. No one came. Shirley breathed out. All was well.

Shirley sneaked closer to the door. Many other dogs barked at her, but none as vicious as the first. Shirley whipped around her; having the sudden feeling someone was watching her. No one was there. Breathing heavily, she continued on her path, growing closer to the ring. From the lack of shouting, she could tell that the ring was empty. Of course it was though, Shirley knew her strengths. She knew she couldn't fight 20-30 full grown men at a time, not to mention the dogs. That's why she had chosen to go _after _a fight, because 'Gopher' would be there, counting his money.

She entered the room, cautiously, with her hand in her pocket, clutching the weapon she brought with her. There it was, in the middle of the room, right beside the ring. He had his back to her, for he sat at a table covered with money. Shirley allowed herself one small smile of victory. She crept up on him and pulled her gun out. Shirley raised it and brought the butt of it down right where his spine and head met. The 'Gopher' was knocked out immediately, and slumped down in his chair. She had about 6 minutes before he woke up.

Shirley took the rope from her pocket, and the rag hidden in her shoes. She tied 'Gopher' to his chair, and gagged him.

She smiled and took the burner phone out of her pocket. She dialed the number belonging to the Scotland Yard. "Hello, this is the Scotland Yard. Please state your emergency." A man asked me. Using a light German accent, Shirley answered, "Greeting Street in East London, the second abandoned building on the right. Name, the 'Gopher', Shirley's struck again." "W-what," the man stuttered, "Don't bother tracing the phone, it's a burner. I would hurry if I were you, he's going to wake. Tell Lestrade I said 'Hello'." She hung up and smiled to herself. Shirley jolted when she realized that Sherlock was still by her. She hurried over to the 'Gopher' to double-check her knots. Tightening them once more, she got up and began to walk back to the stairs. "Sherlock, wait up!" She heard a man whisper loudly. _Crap._

Sherlock ran down the stairs and right into her. They bumped their heads together And Shirley fell down, groaning. John hurried downstairs to where Sherlock was standing over a girl with a deerstalker hat, and a black coat. Suddenly, it clicked for John, the girl was Shirley. The vigilante.

Shirley's heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird's when she saw Sherlock. Celia was escaping but Shirley pushed her back down. "Sherlock Holmes." She said, standing up and brushing herself off. "I'm so glad I could meet you, 'tis a shame it's under such…." Shirley looked around, "unpleasant terms." She noticed John and said, "Oh, you must be Dr. John Watson. Afghanistan or Iraq?" Shirley offered him her hand. John's jaw dropped, but he still shook her hand. "No, wait; it was Afghanistan, wasn't it?" Shirley said, a sly grin playing on her features.

A doctor. A kind one, at that. Shame, she really shouldn't pull one over him, but Shirley liked her freedom too much. She let out a groan, and held her hand to her head. "Oh, man, that really hurts." Shirley shot Sherlock a glare, "Next time, watch where you're going. Show-off." Shirley groaned again, and hunched over. John was right at her side, saying in a gentle voice, "Hold on there, you've got quite a bump." I let him take my hand and that's when she stepped on his foot. Turning, Shirley shoves him into Sherlock, who had just been standing by, watching and observing.

Shirley didn't glance back, but kept on running up the stairs and outside. Sherlock was behind her in less than 30 seconds. She slammed the door shut behind her and ran to where a ladder was leading up to the roof. Sherlock burst out of the door, glancing every which way for her. "She's climbing the ladder!" He shouted. Sherlock started to climb it too, with John following. Shirley looked down; he was only a few rungs behind her. Seriously getting scared, or at least, partly nervous, she climbed faster, until she reached the roof, where she began to run at full speed. Sherlock was going to be on her in seconds!

Shirley looked to the heavens and said, "Oh please, don't let me lose."

Sherlock stopped once he saw where Shirley was going. "Oh my Go-"

John came up, right behind Sherlock, panting. He got there just in time to see Shirley jump.

**Okay, okay, I know it's not that good, but I really like this story, so I'm going to continue it even though it was supposed to be a one-shot. Reviews would be really appreciated. I know my writing's not that good I'm still learning. So please, please review! Please give me some tips!**


	2. Sherlock

**To guitarrar1: Yes I did. I thought it would be more dramatic that way! Don't worry though, Shirley's okay. (Or is she? Dun, dun, dun!) I'm glad you liked it.**

**Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Sherlock, or any other characters. Only Celia and her 'personas' are mine.**

Shirley had leapt from the building and landed on the one next to it, rolling into a summersault to avoid injuring herself farther. _Got to get away, got to leave before police show up, you've got to run! _Her mind screamed at her. She continued to run off that building and onto the next one. After stopping to catch her breath, she noticed Sherlock was right behind her. "You're better than I thought!" She called out gleefully, and started to run again. Hopping across a few more buildings before meeting the edge of one, the building was just out of her reach. _Snap_. Shirley sighed and turned to face Sherlock. He was holding a rag in his hand. She recognized it. It was the chloroform rag she had. She checks her pockets. "Well, no need to get hasty, Holmes." She says confidently. He takes a step towards her and she leaps back. He laughs and she realizes she's been tricked. "You're afraid." He states. "No, I'm perfectly fine with my freedom being ruined." Shirley says sarcastically.

He tilted his head, slight pity and concern playing over his features. Sighing, Shirley said, "Stop it now, Holmes, I know when someone's acting." The façade was dropped and he shrugged. Shirley looked behind her, judging the distance between the two buildings. He noticed what she was doing and said, warning her, "Don't do it, you couldn't possibly make that jump." Shirley smirks at him and Sherlock realizes he just offered her up a challenge. She began to run, Sherlock made a grab for her hand, but she was too fast. Grinning to herself, she jumped. And fell. (Again.)

~!~

"I'm telling you, we should call the police." "No." "Oh for-Sherlock, she's insane! She's dangerous!" "So? I'm dangerous too. Anyway, just treat her and then you can leave." "Oh, and leave you with an insane person? I think not."

Shirley listened to the two men argue before saying out loud, "I'm not insane, you know, I prefer mentally unstable." Shirley opened her eyes and groaned (for real) this time. She saw that she had been lying on her couch in a living room. She also saw that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were arguing in the kitchen. Shirley felt terrible: Her ankle-throbbing, but not that bad: Her head-Dreadful. She felt her head in panic. _Good_, she thought to herself. _The wig was still on_, but her jacket and hat were missing. And so was her gun.

Sherlock entered the room, with John in tow and stared at Shirley, eyes narrowed. She stared right back at him. Shirley attempted to sit up but was forced back down from a sudden wave of pain from her head. John rushed right over to her. He hesitated though, before checking on her. "Don't worry, I don't bite." She said wearily. "No, but you stepped on my foot hard enough." He said, chuckling. "Oh," Shirley said a slight pink coming to her cheeks. "Sorry about that. I was kind of in a hurry." She glanced down at her wounds and asked, "So, doctor, am I going to live?" He chuckled again at that. "Yes. You're fine. Make sure to keep your foot iced." He touched the bump on her head. "It seems okay, but you probably shouldn't run around anymore."

"So I guess my bold and dangerous escape is put on hold, then?" Shirley laughed and glanced at Sherlock. "Well, I'm in your house, I'm disabled. You can call the cops if you want. Although, I quite like my freedom. And I really don't want to have to do anything drastic to break out of jail." John walked back to the kitchen, most likely going to get ice for her foot, leaving Sherlock and Shirley alone.

He was still silent and still staring at her. She sighs and says, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry I used your name to commit my so-called 'crimes'. It won't happen again. Actually I take it back, _this, _won't happen. Me getting captured, because next time, you won't catch me." His face seemed a little shocked, but Sherlock shrugged it off. "Why did you do it?" He asks her, taking a seat.

Shirley answers. "Because."

"Because what?"

It was supposed to come out annoyed, but sounded like a whine. "Do I have to answer?"

"Fine, different question. Who are you?"

"Now Holmes," She says smiling slightly, "I thought you would figure that out by now. I can't help but be a little disappointed in you!" Sherlock flinched. "Here I am, in the presence of the World's Greatest Detective, who knows all, but can't find out the simplest secrets."

"You think I'm the World's Greatest Detective?" Shirley blushes.

"Shut up." She snaps, as Sherlock continues to grin.

"Anyway, I think I've overstayed my welcome here." Shirley tries to stand up, but lets out a groan. She lowers herself back to a lying down position and muttered, "Crap."

Sherlock smirks at that. John came back into the room with an ice-pack. He gently places on her ankle. "Ooooh, ow. Okay, that hurts. Snap why that hurt so freaking much does?" She seethed. "You have a low pain-tolerance." Sherlock retorted to her. "It's not that injured, but you're not used to that much pain." She rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, must you do that observing thing?" He shrugged. "But," She says, eyes glimmering with mischief, "I bet you can't deduce me." John sighs, "Oh no."

Sherlock stares at her for a few moments before saying, "You're wearing contacts-"

"Yes you can tell by my eyes. Next!" She interrupted him.

He looked shocked but continued never-the-less. "You're wearing a wig."

"Non-impressive." Shirley stifles a yawn.

"You have a fear of small spaces, allergic to bees and your father's dead. You have an annoying brother, or sister, and you live alone. Also, you play the piano."

Shirley smiles a bit and then says, "Okay, mildly impressed. If only what you said was true." She laughs again and says, "Oh Holmes, the things you don't know about me could fill a book. Wait, no, 4 books." Sherlock gets up at that comment and goes to the kitchen. John follows him. She smiles and gets up, silently. Shirley moves towards the window and opens it. She climbs through, careful not to bump her head and then slams it shut.

Sherlock runs back to the living room and out the window. Shirley had climbed down the building, and started to walk. Her ankle perfectly fine. John asks Sherlock, "Well, are we going after her?" His answer is a shake of the head, and a small smile. "Eight." He says, twirling around to go to his room. "What?" John asks again, "Eight, this case is an eight." Sherlock says, before slamming the door shut.

~8~

Celia walked into the station right after lunch. She was going to movie with an old friend and wanting to drop by to see Uncle Lessy (a.k.a. Lestrade). Celia's heart was still pounding after last night. And she let out a little bit of Shirley to calm herself down, in order not to appear too scared. Celia knocks on her uncle's door. "Hey, Uncle? I just-" she stopped when she noticed Sherlock, arguing with her uncle. John Watson was standing beside Sherlock, not saying anything. Most likely preferring to stay out of a fight. Lestrade glanced at his niece and said to Sherlock, holding a hand to silence him. "I'll be right with you." _Like that's going to work._ Celia thought to herself. She caught Sherlock's eye and blushed, almost certain he knew what she was thinking.

"Yes, Celia? What do you need?" Lestrade asked her testily. "Oh," She said, turning back to him, "I-I um, just wanted to tell y-you that I am going t-to the m-movies. With Sophie." She added. Her uncle nodded and looked back at Sherlock. Celia exited the room, breathing deeply. Celia started out again when Sherlock opened the door and told her, "Wait." Celia almost started to hyperventilate because of his voice. It made her knees go weak.

Celia shakes her head in order to get rid of such thoughts. Sherlock circles around her, so that he's in front of her. He observes her and Celia almost faints. "U-u-m, Mr. Holmes?" She asks, not looking at him. "Please, call me Sherlock." He murmurs to her. Celia blushes and asks, "O-okay, She-Sherlock," She takes a deep breath. "W-what are you d-doing?" "Comparing your height." He says, giving her a look **(actually let's just call it The Look, from now on, okay?)** He gave her the Look, and sighed. "Well, Celia, goodbye." He left without a second glance at me. And I swallowed the urge to smirk. John Watson comes out of Lestrade's office and I say, pointing down the hall. "He went that away."

Watson sighs and starts to jog in the direction I pointed. My heart suddenly has an all-too-familiar ache in it. The ache of wanting something I can't have. I disregard those feelings and head off to see Sophie.

~:~

Sherlock tried to follow where he thought Shirley went after escaping his flat. It was obvious that the girl was fast, and an expert on acting. _She is good, but not good enough,_ thought Sherlock. After the trail went cold, he climbed up the stairs of his flat, hoping to relax and think some more about the case. He headed off to his bedroom to brood a little. Sherlock was very surprised when he saw a white envelope taped to his door. He opened it, already having a clue on who it was from. It read,

_Dear Holmes,_

_If you are reading this that means you haven't found me after I escaped from your flat. Before anything else, tell Dr. Watson thank you from me for dealing with my injuries. And I am very sorry-no, actually, no I'm not. I'm not sorry that you couldn't catch me. And I'm not sorry for causing you trouble. Here's a little advice for you, Holmes. Stop looking for me. Tell your little pals back at the Scotland Yard to step back, and let me work. I know, I know, they won't do that. They have to take me down. But that's not going to happen. Ever. I will of course stop (eventually) catching criminals and doing their jobs, but not for a long time. So here's the thing. You see, I'm not just a vigilante-I'm a detective. A secret kind, and that means I'm your upstart competition. So watch out. And please, stand aside, because I really do not want to see you get hurt. _

_Secretively-Shirley Holmes._

_PS: I took back my coat and hat-couldn't find my gun. When, I mean, _if _you find it, could you please return it to me? _

Sherlock finally understood why they call it seeing red, because that's exactly what he was doing. He studied the note. There wasn't much to it. It was typed, standard font, ink you could get in any shops, but the paper was the kind they used at the police station. So she had police access. Muttering some unmentionable words, he sat down on the couch, his head in his hands. "I'm bored." He said out loud, but Sherlock knew that wasn't true. Ever since the vigilante showed up, he had been occupied by it. Sherlock was determined to discover the secret identity of 'Shirley'.

~C~

I returned to my flat after the movie. It was some action/adventure flick that Sophie had been dying to go see. While the plot wasn't that interesting, I did learn some moves from the fighting scenes. I flop unto my bed and began to write in my journal. I write down what happened last night-or, at least, all of what I could remember.

_Shirley jumped, and fell. She managed to grab onto the fire escape on the side of building, but immediately let go. But the good news was that it did slow down her fall, so she only ended up with a badly bruised ankle, and a major headache. Shirley landed on her left foot, and then fell over, trying to get into a summersault. Sherlock had shouted, "Shirley!" when she fell. Shirley smiled to herself. He hadn't called her that before. She got up and groaned in pain. Her ankle and head almost doubling in pain. Still, Shirley managed to begin to run away. Well, limp away. But at a fast pace. Shirley didn't even look back, knowing that he was climbing down the building and was about to catch her. So Shirley did the thing she does best. She hid. _

_Or rather, she let Celia hide. Shirley let Celia escape and she __**(they?)**__ ran for it. Celia ran into another alley, and hid behind a dumpster. Celia then started shaking, so Shirley took control again. Sherlock past them, running and she let out the breath that she had been holding. She slowly got up, wincing slightly at her foot. It didn't hurt that much anymore, or maybe she was just getting used to the pain. Strangely, when she was Celia though, it didn't bother her. Shirley shakes her head in order to focus. She peeks out, glad to see that Sherlock was gone and started to walk back towards where the chase had started for she wanted to get a good view of the cops faces when they found 'Gopher'. Shirley sneaked back as well as she could, but stopped by the sound of footsteps behind her. _

"_Snap." She whispers. Shirley doesn't bother turning around, already knowing who it is. Instead she decides to run. Run as fast as she can. Shirley turns into another alleyway, and jumps onto another fire escape. "How many fire escapes does this freaking city _have_?" She asked Sherlock, who was right behind her. She manages to get a foot up on it but it's too late. Sherlock grabs her foot that's hanging down and won't let go. Shirley stares down at him, only to be surprised that it was John. The Doctor fellow. Shirley smiled and tried to yank her foot away from his grasp. But he wouldn't let go. He then shouted the words she feared. "Sherlock! I've got her!" _

_Shirley kept fighting but he was holding onto her bad ankle, and she didn't want to strain it anymore. She only sighed and then slowly climbed back down. John let go of her ankle and grabbed her arm instead. Shirley rolled her eyes and sat down on the ground. John looked confused and she stifled a laugh. Shirley wasn't stupid. She knew when to give up. She had just lowered her head when Sherlock came running around from the corner. "Well, Holmes," She said, now looking up with a grin on her face, "What now?" "Now, we take you to the police." John said sternly. "Fine." Shirley says, smiling. But she winces as she stands up. Sherlock notices and lends a hand for her. Frowning at the hand, she takes it anyway. And then makes a run for it. Of course she gets caught again, Sherlock grabs her wrist. But she trips right before he could actually grab it. Shirley falls and hits her head on the side of the building. The last thing she remembered was Sherlock standing over her, holding a rag._

Celia shuddered at the sudden flashback. She began to write down what happened anyway, it was a good thing to keep her occupied. After finished up her daily writings, Celia settles down for a nap, but not before hiding her journal. She slips it under her pillow and slowly drifts off to sleep. Smiling at the thought of what Sherlock's expression when reading the letter she sent.

~?~

**(Okay, I'm about to get poetic here a little bit.)**

Twas the night before Halloween-a night full of tricks and treats

Shirley frowned-not liking all the candy feasts.

She pulled her hat on

And disappeared into the night

Shirley Holmes was gone.

(**Yeah, yeah, yeah, it was bad. But I was bored… Hehehehehe, get it?)**

Celia took a deep breath; she quickly fluffed up her hair, put a smile on, and knocked on 221b Baker Street's door, stylishly dressed. Celia was in another persona. She was Megan, the cute, petite, and girly, 1D-loving, girl-next-door persona. Celia was dressed in a ruffled pink skirt, a white blouse, high heels, and pink lipstick. Truthfully-Celia hated/loved Megan. Megan was the opposite of Shirley. And then there was Toby, who is a boy and a skater-but that didn't matter at the moment. Anyway, Celia had to think that if she ranked her personas on how much she liked them, it would be

Shirley

Megan

Toby

Or something like that. Anyway, Celia, oops, no, _Megan_ rang the doorbell of 221b. She had no fear of getting caught, for Megan knew that Sherlock Holmes and John were at the police station.

An elderly woman with a gentle face opened the door and Megan quickly said cheerfully "Um, like, excuse me, ma'am, but is Sherlock-I mean, like, Mr. Holmes here?" She added a giggle at the end of it. The lady smiled and answered, shaking her head, "No, sorry dearie, but he's out right now. But you are welcome to come in and wait. I'm Mrs. Hudson, the landlady." She offers her hand and Megan takes it eagerly.

"Um, like no thank you Mrs. Hudson. But thanks for the offer. Could you do me a teeny-weensy favor?" Megan smiled coyly and her cheeks became slightly pink. Add that to the fact she had honey brown eyes, and bouncy blonde curls, it was a miracle Mrs. Hudson didn't melt just looking at her.

"Why, sure dearie. What do you need?" Mrs. Hudson asked, a smile coming to her lips. "Could you, like, give this to She- Mr. Holmes when he, like, gets back?" Megan hands her an envelope. And unlike the other one, this one is tinted orange, and smells like peaches.

Mrs. Hudson takes it and says, "Of course dearie, would you like a cuppa before you leave?" Megan politely declined and left, after biding her goodbye to the landlady.

Megan's smile and charm didn't lose a beat even when she noticed a sleek black car, following her at a discreet distance. Just then. Her phone began to ring. Megan picked it up, checked the number and put it back in her purse. She then rather slowly and hesitantly, let Shirley out to escape.

Shirley was a little bit unhappy to be back out so soon, add that with the stalker car and her girly outfit, Shirley was in a bad mood.

Shirley discovered that the limp was coming back on as she continued to walk. So Shirley slipped off her heels and put them in the bag Megan had. Shirley took a hair tie out of the bag and put her hair in a ponytail. She checked herself in the window of a shop and then ran.

The car followed her, until Shirley ran into an alleyway.

~?~

"Follow her." A man's sophisticated voice ordered from inside the black car. He sighed and focused on the girl. An interesting character, the woman was. One moment she was all rainbows and sunshine. The next, she was as dangerous as lightening itself. With an attitude to match Sherlock's.

Scowling, he tried the other cameras. Dang it! He had lost the girl. The aristocratic man leaned in closer to the screens and whispered to himself, "Where are you?" There! He spotted the girl running into an alleyway. "She's in the alleyway, corner her there." He called out to his driver and into his phone, where several of his guards were listening. The black car turned into the alleyway.

He stepped out, expecting to see a disgruntled girl surrounded by men in suits, and only found his guards walking around with confused faces. The alleyway was a dead end, and the only other place she could have gone-

"Oh she's good." He said out loud to himself. "Never mind about her." He called out to his guards, heading back to his car. He got in and they sped away. "Did you find her?" His assistant asked who only had eyes for her blackberry. "No." He answered her, looking out the window. "Do you want me to send out a team to hunt her down?" She asked. The man, known as the 'British Government' only chuckled and told his assistant. "No, no, no. Just keep a watch on her."

He continued to look out the window, and stared at 221b, watching as his brother and John entered the flat. "Hmmm, 'Shirley Holmes'." He said, saying the name out aloud. "Did you say something, sir?" His assistant asked, oh, what was her name? Oh yes, Anthea.

"No." Mycroft answered her. "Just thinking."

**That's it for now; sorry if the wait was long! I don't know if anyone is actually reading this or not, but I am really enjoying writing this. Anyway, my school starts next month and I may or may be able to post anything for a while. Thanks for reading! **


	3. Mycroft?

**Disclaimers: I do not own Sherlock or any other characters except Celia and her persona. Sigh.**

Sherlock opened the door to 221b Baker Street with a glum expression. The possible lead was nothing, and there have been no others for him to follow. He left the door open for John to close and curled up on the couch, thinking. John sighed, and closed the front door.

"John?" Mrs. Hudson's voice asked him from her kitchen. "Is that you?" She appeared into the hallway with a smile. John smiled back and said, "Yes, Sherlock and I just got back. Do you think you could make us some tea?" He added coyly, Mrs. Hudson replied back, "Fine, but just this once! I'm not your housekeeper." John helped her up the stairs and sat down in his chair while she worked in the kitchen. Sherlock hadn't moved from his pot on the couch.

John sighed and got out his laptop to write in his blog.

"What are you writing?" Sherlock asked him, not looking at John.

John replied "Updating about the case."

He scowled and said, "Don't. I would rather the world didn't know about it."

John snorted, "Why not? The whole city of London knows about the Sherlock Holmes vigilante, they want to know the details."

Sherlock rolled over on the couch so that his back was to John. Mrs. Hudson then came out with the tea and addressed Sherlock, "Oh, Sherlock dear, I forgot to give this to you." She holds out the orange letter. "A nice young lady came a dropped it off. She said she was looking for you but when I told her you weren't here, she gave me this." Sherlock hadn't moved, so John took it for him.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." John replied to her, opening the letter. His eyes grew as he read further into the letter, or should he say invitation. "Sherlock." John said rather harshly. "It's an invitation for a costume Halloween party." Sherlock groaned. "John went over and dropped it Sherlock's face. "It's from Shirley."

That got his attention. Sherlock scrambled up to read it properly. It read:

_You are invited to the costume party of the century! It is a themed costume party. The theme is: crime. Costumes are mandatory. It's at _315 Mockingbird Lane_ and starts at 7 tonight!_

The paper was orange with little pumpkins decorating the edges. Sherlock sniffed it muttered, "Peaches". There was a handwritten note at the back of it. It read:

_Oh dear, I don't think that I can stop writing to you! Maybe we could become pen pals? Oh well, anyway, here it is. I have seen how much you want to catch me, so here's a little game. I will attend the party tonight. In costume of course! Anyway, I will lay clues for you and you must find me, it'll be fun! If you can solve the riddles and find me, I'll tell you why I did it, and who I am! Bring Doctor Watson along too, if you please._

_Secretively, Shirley 'Holmes'_

_P.S. You don't have to dress up in costumes, just come as yourselves._

Sherlock smiled and told John, "Oh, she is good. But, really, if she likes her freedom, she really should not have given me a challenge." He got up to go to his room.

"So I guess this means we're going then?" John shouted after him. His answer was the slamming of a door. "Great." He muttered. "Fantastic."

Celia tugged at the wig she was wearing. She was dressed up in her usual Shirley outfit, but was being persnickety right now. Everything had to be perfect. She wanted to look her best when she met Sherlock. That is, if he followed the clues. Celia's heart started to beat faster at the thought of getting caught, but she took a deep breath. Celia began to work on her make-up.

She applied a light coating of foundation that was a shade or two lighter than her own. Then Celia put in her colored contacts. She applied mascara and black eyeliner. After finishing up the make-up part of the disguise, she worked on the clothing. She put on her purple blouse and her trench coat. It wasn't black, but a dark 'charcoal' as she liked to call it. She wore black pants **(or are they called trousers?) **and her red converses. While Celia was always careful never to wear the anything that she normally wears when being Shirley, she just can't resist wearing her lucky red converses. Celia looked at herself in the mirror, and put on the hat. Gosh that was such a stupid looking hat. _Honestly, really, why on earth did he wear the hat? _Celia asked herself. As an afterthought she grabbed the gun in her wardrobe and put it in her pocket. It wasn't a real gun, but a fake one, really do you think she was going to running around with a gun in her hands? She could barely shoot one, let alone aim it.

Celia sighed and tugged at her hat, still frowning. Celia took a deep breath and switched over to Shirley. Shirley moved out into the living room and stood in front of the mirror, smiling. She put her collar up and climbed out the window, down the fire escape. After lightly dropping to the ground (her ankle was still tender) Shirley pulled out her phone and called Sophie. "Hey, Soph? Yeah, I'm on my way, in disguise. No I'm not telling you what I'm wearing. Anyway, did you get my letter?" She keeps on walking down the street and calls a cab. Shirley listens to her friend (well, Celia's friend) chat away on the phone while the cab begins to drag away.

"Yeah, you know, you are, like, the only person I know who still sends letters! It's really uncool Celia." Sophie told her, with an annoyed voice.

"Hey! I told you not to call me that, and Celia doesn't send letters, only I do." Shirley retorts to Sophie. "Anyway, is everything set up?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Just chill. Our plan's in motion." Sophie reported to her.

"Great. See you in a few!" Shirley bide her goodbyes to Sophie and hung up. "Um, just drop me off here please." Shirley told her cabbie, pointing towards the left. The cabbie just kept going. Shirley stiffened and took a deep breath. Slowly she reached out towards the door and tried to open it.

It was locked.

_Crap. Double, triple, quadruple crap, _Shirley thought. She leaned back and asked the cabbie, "Hey, I'm not heading to my death or anything, right? Because I have a party to go to, and I would rather not be late." She could have sworn the cabbie smirked. He didn't answer and Shirley sat back down with a humph. A few minutes later, they arrived at a warehouse. The cabbie unlocked the doors and Shirley scrambled to get out. She slammed the door and the cab sped away, she didn't even pay him. A woman busy typing on her phone stood outside the door of the warehouse and said, not looking at her, "He's waiting inside for you." Shirley gave her a look over and said, "I shouldn't try escape, should I?" The woman chuckled and just pointed at the door.

Shirley warily opened it and stepped inside. It was empty except for a table and chairs. "Okay, this just keeps getting creepier and creepier." Shirley said out loud, trying to comfort herself. She put her hand to her pocket where her gun was and pulled it out. Shirley wasn't going to take any chances. "Listen, I don't know who you are, or why I am here, but can we just get this over with?" Her voice sounded annoyed and slightly bored. Good, that was exactly what she was going for. "There will be no need to use that." A man's voice asked her from the shadows.

Shirley didn't jump but instead turned around to face a man in an expensive suit holding an umbrella. "Hello." He said to her pleasantly, a knowing smile planted on his face. "Please, sit." He pointed to a chair with his umbrella.

"No thank you, I prefer to stand, it makes it easier for me to commit my daring and bold escapes." She replied, smiling a smile to match his. His eyes grew slightly cold and the Celia in her wanted to faint. Of course, Celia always fainted. Shirley observed the aristocratic man. All she could figure out was that he occupied a position high up in the British Government.

"Is there a reason why you kidnapped me? I could go to the police with this, you know." Shirley warned him.

He answered her, "We both know that won't happen. You don't want them to find, Shirley. Oh yes, I know who you are." He added as Shirley gave a small start when he said her name. "I also know you as Megan, Toby, and even Celia." Shirley's eyes almost popped out of her head when he said Celia.

She slowly moved towards the table and sat down in the chair, staring at him. "W-what do you want?" Shirley had never been more shocked or speechless as she'd been then. "Nothing, right now, but I come with a warning for you." His voice sounded cocky, and Shirley felt humbled, which angered her. She was supposed to brave! She was the smart persona! Each persona had a role, and being smart and clever was hers!

"I can take care of myself." Shirley growled, looking down at her hands. "Please, don't make this any more difficult than it already it." His voice sounded exasperated, and Shirley felt a tiny bit of pleasure.

"Sherlock is good, very good. He's very smart." The man told her.

"A little too smart, if you ask me." Shirley says rubbing her head remembering what happened a few nights ago.

The man chuckled and continued, "The point is, you will get caught."

Shirley looks at him and asks, "Why are you telling me this?"

He answers, "Because, I believe that in the future you will become of great use to Sherlock. And I want to give you fair warning."

Shirley raised an eyebrow. "I don't like being lied too."

The man frowned and said, "Fine. I believe that your short life as a vigilante will soon come to an end. But knowing you, you won't stop, somehow you'll keep going. You'll end up working with Sherlock, and when you do I would like to offer you something."

"Hold on." Shirley cut him off, now standing. "I think I know where this is going, you want me to spy on Sherlock. The answer is no." She starts to walk away.

"I haven't named a price yet." The man called out after her.

Shirley twirled around to face him, "Listen, I don't know how much you know about me, but I am very loyal. Sadly, acting can't replace all of your original instincts." Shirley went back to walking.

"You like it, don't you? The thrill, the danger." He said quietly. Shirley stopped and told him sternly, "No. There's another reason why I am doing this."

"Why?" He asks her.

Shirley looked back at him and smiled. "Bored." With those words she left him.

When she got outside, Shirley started to walk down the street, desperate to get away from the man. Shirley took a deep breath and tried to figure out why he had looked so familiar. There must be a reason, but what was it? Oh well, she'll have to find out later, she was going to be late. Shirley pulled out her phone and dialed Sophie's number.

"Hey, Sophie, sorry I'm going to be a little late, I got…detained on the way here. Don't worry I'm fine, I'll be there soon." Shirley ended the call before Sophie could say anything back to her. It was better that way.

Shirley decided not to call any more cabs but to jog the rest of the way. The encounter with the creepy stalker umbrella man had not really scared her, but had given her the shock of her life. Anyway, Shirley kept walking for the next 20 minutes until she finally reached the party.

The house was all lit up, almost every window was open and she could hear the music being played. She passed children dressed up in costumes on the sidewalk. There were butterflies, princesses, pirates, doctors, vampires-not to mention dozens of characters from TV shows that Shirley had never seen-and she even saw a few kids dressed as Sherlock. Most of the costumes were a little cliché. The most original costume Shirley saw was a brunette dressed as a 1960's police phone box.

Shirley finally arrived at the door of where the party would take place. She checked her phone for the time. It was 7:00 o clock. Shirley's head snapped up and she scanned the streets. Her eyes spotted a familiar figure. A tall man in a trench coat followed by a shorter man with a limp. Both were walking rather quickly towards her. Shirley waited until Sherlock noticed her. Their eyes met and with a grin she entered the house. And disappeared.

**Sooooooo what did you think? I know, I know, cliffhangers, but I'm a sucker for them! Anyway review please! Oh, and question, does anyone else want to see Toby and/or more of Megan? A reader told me they wanted to see Toby so I was wondering if any more of you guys want to see him. **

**A special shout-out to my dear friend CowSheep for helping a bit with this. She's a great friend! **


	4. Sophie

**Shirley: I am starting to dislike the running. Can't I just be a normal person and not run?**

**Me: Aren't normal people boring though?**

**Shirley: Touché.**

**Me: Anyway, just get on with it.**

**Shirley: No. Make Celia do it.**

**Me: Celia will have a heart attack if I ask her to do it.**

**Shirley: Megan then.**

**Sherlock: It bloody doesn't matter who says it just say it already! I'm starting to get BORED!**

**Me: Oh, just go shoot the wall!**

**Shirley: GiraffePanda2 does not own BBC Sherlock, or any lollipops. I have checked.**

**ON WITH THE SHOW!**

%No one's POV%

Shirley disappeared into the house, merging with the crowd. She searched for her friend Sophie, who was dressed in an orange jumpsuit tied at the waist. She had long black hair and wore a white tank top underneath the jumpsuit. She was hanging out by the drinks and snacks table with a glass of punch.

"Sophie!" Shirley called out almost nonchalantly, ignoring her racing heart.

"Shir-!"

Shirley stuffed a mini-sandwich into Sophie's mouth. She leaned closer to her and hissed in her face, "Don't call me Shirley!" Shirley glanced around, "Especially not here!"

Sophie nodded and quickly swallowed the food, coughing slightly. "Dang girl! You're much more sassy than Celia, but more scary than Megan. Should I be concerned?"

Shirley scowled at her and almost seemed to pout. Sophie laughed and tipped back her cup, opening her mouth to catch any remaining drops of the punch. Shirley snatches it away from her and sets it down back on the table. "No." She says sternly, blocking Sophie. "I don't an out-of-it friend hyped on spiked punch." Sophie stared incredibly at her.

"You're a pain in the-"

"No swearing."

Sophie and Shirley had a stare down. Sophie broke first. She looked away muttering something that suspiciously sounded like "Stupid colored contacts". Shirley smirked and examined the crowd. She immediately ducked under the snacks table when she noticed Sherlock enter the room. Sophie nonchalantly asked her what made her duck down and Shirley pointed in Sherlock's direction.

She could practically hear Sophie's jaw hit the ground. Sophie whistled low and nudged Shirley. "You mean tall dark and handsome over there?" Shirley gagged mentally; glad she wasn't Celia right now, who would be a stuttering idiot.

"Sophie," She threatens, getting out from the table. "Don't. Don't even go there." She snorts at her and asks "Why? You got a crush?" Shirley froze, paled and then very slowly grew red. She takes a deep breath and answers, "No." With that she turns on her heel and moves out to the crowd, glad for once and the swarm of people there.

Shirley smiles and her plan, really, Sherlock must take her an idiot! Like she would really risk her freedom for a chance to talk with him, who would do that? _Sophie. _Shirley grudgingly thought to herself, that girl is something.

Shirley manages to escape out the back door and sets off to the one place he won't think to look for her. 221b Baker Street.

~?~

$Celia's POV$

Dear sweet mother of mercy, what is Shirley doing?! I really need to get a better hold on my life. This persona thing is taking it too far. But, what happens if-

Shirley freezes in mid walk, suddenly the wall bursts down and she kneels down, clutching her head in pain. Pain, oh the pain! The memories start to flood in, Celia playing on the swing sets with her mother pushing her, Celia and her father reading a bed-time story, her first day of school, the first prank pulled on her, hiding behind that dumpster for two days when playing hide 'n' go seek with the neighborhood kids, the night of the car crash-NO.

Shirley slowly stood, pushing Celia and her dreadful memories down, _you are not Celia, you are Shirley, you are not her, those are not your memories, you don't know that pain, you are content and smart. You are not Celia, I am Shirley. _

Shirley takes a deep breath and stands up, ignoring the stares around her. One person was openly pointing, Shirley snarled at them and walked on, hoping that the memories won't come through again.

Half an hour later, (why didn't she hail a cab?) Shirley stood in front of the apartment. _Hmm, it must be nice living here._ Shirley thought as she picked the lock. In only under ten minutes, she was walking through the thresh-hold and up the stairs, touching the rail-way and grazing the wall with her fingertips.

Shirley entered 221b with a smile on her face. Shirley observed the room around her for just a moment before bounding up on the couch and studying the wall. She brushed the bullet holes, gauging their width and smirked. Almost too easy!

She popped in a small technical device into one of the holes, hiding it just out of sight. There. That was all. The bug was in place.

Shirley had already, well, okay it was Celia, but none-the-less, there now was a bug in the Scotland Yard, and 221b Baker Street.

The lone vigilante dusted the imaginary dirt off her jacket and bounded out the door and into the street. Life was going to get much, much better.

Oh how wrong that was.

…

**Omiword, I haven't updated in 3 months! I'm so sorry! I just couldn't get the creative juices flowing and I kept getting tied up and now I'm rambling-shutting up.**

**Anyway, I kinda almost lost interest in this, but now I got it! I know what to do, and so I am gonna do it! Sorry, this is a short chapter, but you can't have everything. **

**Thank you to a very kind guest review I was left with, I was very uplifted! So can I have at least THREE reviews before the next update? It would mean fake cookies for all!**

**-S**


	5. Lestrade

**Omiword, I got the sweetest reviews ever! Thank you my faithful reviewers! It means a ton! But what I meant is, two reviews for **_**this **_**chapter, not in total for the whole story, cuz whenever I get reviews, it makes me want to update!**

**Celia: U-um, hey g-guys…..**

**Me: It's okay Celia, we don't bite!**

**Shirley: Hard.**

**Celia: (scoots back and hides behind me) U-u-u-um….. GiraffePanda2doesnotownBBCSh erlock!**

**Shirley: I'm not that scary, am I?**

Sherlock was angry. No, actually that was an understatement. He was furious. Absolutely furious. Bloodthirsty, even! The fact that a mere girl outsmarted him was terrible. Completely and utterly terrible.

The worst part is that she didn't even show up! She didn't play by the rules, she messed up the game. More importantly, she lied. _To him._ And he didn't even notice. Well, it wasn't his fault it was in a letter.

But the point was that he, the 'World's Greatest Detective', got outsmarted. Again. This time, this time for sure he would catch her.

~ha~

"So let me get this straight, Shirley invited you two to a party on last night you go-without consulting the police-and she doesn't even show up?" Lestrade asks Sherlock and John who are standing in his office. "Well, technically she did show up, but she left immediately after we saw her." John corrected, half frustrated that they didn't catch her and bemused at Sherlock not catching her. Celia snorts in the corner where she was sitting. She pointedly looks elsewhere when the three men turn their gaze to her. Her flush deepened as Lestrade and John looked away but Sherlock continued to stare at her. Finally he removes his piercing eyes from her face he turns to Lestrade once again. "Shirley is a menace, she has to be stopped."

"Has she stolen anything?-"

"My identity." Sherlock interrupts Lestrade. He fixes Sherlock with a pointed stare and John mutters, "He meant anything of importance."

"I am important John, who else could do what I do?"

_Apparently Shirley. _Celia thought to herself. By the glares she received from Sherlock and her uncle (not to mention the amused one from John), she had said that certain thought out loud. Her cheeks once again grew red and Celia stuttered, growing nervous. "U-um, s-sorry M-Mr. Holmes." Sherlock narrowed his eyes and simply nodded.

"Has she killed anyone?" Lestrade continued, obviously trying to draw away attention from his niece.

"No." Answered Sherlock.

"Then it's not my problem. Go down a department, maybe they'll know what to do, as far as I know, Shirley is doing us a favor. And who knows, maybe she'll end her life of a silent vigilante and set up shop next to you, as a consulting detective." Lestrade gives a bark of laughter at that and Celia nervously chuckles with him.

"She hasn't killed anyone yet." Sherlock retorted coolly.

_Oh no he didn't._ Celia thinks. She jumps up, unknowingly letting a bit of Shirley out, and marches straight to Sherlock. Pointing her index finger at his chest, she growls at him.

"Shirley is a bloody hero! (**A/N time here: Is that the proper way to use the term 'bloody'? I've read Harry Potter and other British related fan fictions and I don't know if I can use it like that or not. Anyway, back to ****Celia's ****Shirley's ranting's.) **She is brave and smart! She busted numerous small-run drug businesses and not to mention, saved those dogs from that dog-fighting-ring! She's a good person, unlike you, Mr. I'm-so-bloody-brilliant-and-perfect! Shirley had morals! She would never kill someone!"

Sherlock looked so shocked at that, with his eyes wide and hands up, he stared down at the young woman before him. _How dare she that, to him! But those eyes, defiant and cunning, could it be?-_

"Inspector Lestrade?" Donovan appeared at the doorway, papers in hand and a smirk on her face. It faded when she spotted the positions everyone was in. John stifling giggles, Lestrade frozen, Sherlock hands up with a priceless look of shock on his face and Celia's, _(that little shy girl?!)_ finger on Sherlock's chest with a frown on her face and it looked like she was in the middle of telling him off.

"Um," Donovan began, "Am I missing something here?" Donovan looked at each person carefully.

~%~

Celia seemed to be woken from her frozen state, noticed what she was doing and immediately retreated. Whatever small part of Shirley that had come out was gone, replaced by a stuttering nervous wreck. Celia.

The Shirley in her nearly died of embarrassment. _Continue!_ It said, egging her on. _Tell it to him!_ Celia just backed up until she hit the wall.

"Oh! U-um, uh…" She started unsure what to say. She couldn't continue-he might find out-but it frustrated her so. She really, really wanted to tell him off though…..

Sherlock stared, still stunned, at Celia-whose eyes were now unsure and afraid. _Maybe not….._

Donovan cleared her, bringing everyone's attention back to her. Casting a smirk at Celia's red face and a wide-eyed Sherlock, she continued. "We got a hit on the vigilante, Shirley." Donovan turns her gaze to Sherlock triumphantly. But his eyes were on Celia.

Of course with her mouth open, eyes blinking slowly-open-close-and her hands making fists, she was look'in pretty comical.

Donovan hands the paper to Lestrade, who starts to read them almost disbelievingly. "I thought you weren't looking for her." Celia states carefully. Donovan grinned at her. "The boys and I wanted to meet the woman who tricked the freak." Celia cringed slightly at the word 'freak'.

"Well Celia," Her uncle said, tearing his eyes from the papers and bringing everyone's attention to him. "It appears you would be mistaken." His eyes met hers. "We got a body. Evidence suggests it was Shirley who killed him. You were wrong."

~British guy say what now?~

**Oh I'm so cruel! Leaving you like that, Mwahahahaha! You guys should be getting used to cliffhangers. Anyway, I wrote this during school, in my Justin Bieber notebook. (Don't judge, it was a gift from a friend.) The chapter is short, but it's easier for me to do this. Just got back from spring break-two weeks. Booyah. So I might not be able to update this soon again, but I have the sixth chapter written out a little bit so you might get lucky! Next Chapter will include:**

**Shirley begging for Sherlock to clear her name.**

**John being bemused!**

**Molly being shy.**

**And other things that I don't wanna list.**

**Peace out y'all!**

**-Shirley -_-, Celia :l, Toby ;) and Megan :D!**


	6. Toby

**So I got a review, telling me that they think Shirley is a 'female pregnant dog' (You know what word it is, I refuse to write it.). That kind of made me a bit mad, but they said they liked the story, just not Shirley so it's okay, I guess. And Shirley is supposed to seem a bit like a jerk, cuz she's based off Sherlock, and Sherlock is a little bit of jerk. (Scratch that, he's a major jerk.) Anyway, ONWARDS MY VALIANT STEED!**

**Shirley: This chapter does not end well for me.**

**Sherlock: I quite enjoyed it.**

**Shirley: Shut up Sherlock no one needs your opinion. (I have always wanted to say that…..)**

**Me: Ladies! You're both very pretty, now can we move on with this and start on the chapter?**

**Shirley: GiraffePanda2 does not own BBC Sherlock. But she does own Celia and her personas.**

_Celia's POV_

I felt weak in the knees, oh sweet mother of mercy… This isn't good! I'm really scared now. Shirley killed someone! I'm Shirley, I killed someone-Me! I ended a person's life-

Wait a minute.

Oh, stupid me. I'm an utter dolt. Of course I didn't kill someone, and neither did Shirley! I was being framed. Oh my word. I'm being framed for a murder I didn't commit. In retrospect, I should have expected this, really. Life as a silent vigilante wasn't ever going to end well. I need help, and only one man can clear my name.

Crap.

Once I stopped freaking out and started to think rationally, everyone was already heading out. "Uncle Lessy!" I called out, running to him. He turned to me, as did several police officers and I struggled to control my blush. _Curse my pale skin! _

"Yes?" He asks me testily.

"Let me come." I spoke calmly, yet somehow pleading to him. I stare into my uncle's eyes, reading his while he reads mine. A look of confusion mixed with an emotion I cannot place appeared in his brown eyes, and slowly but surely he nodded.

I had the feeling of triumph running through my body, and I wanted to do a fist pump right there and then. I have self-control.

~waiting, waiting, 20 minutes and an awkward cab ride later~

Deep breaths Celia. Deep breaths.

Yeah right.

I stood at near a wall, staying far away from the body whose head was only slightly attached. _Oh Mercy, not another Nearly Headless Nick…._ I looked at Sherlock instead. Watching him circle around the body without a single look of disgust was amazing. He could take any news and not be surprised, seriously. It's bloody amazing. John however was also avoiding looking at the body, as well the other policemen on the scene.

My uncle seemed only a little disturbed by it and instead directed his attention to the World's Only Consulting Detective, who had stopped now circling and was now standing straight up and snapping on gloves.

"You have something?" He asks, raising one eyebrow. Sherlock murmurs something about seven but I tune him out and focus on the body. Or try to at least, the blood isn't all that appealing to me. So basically I manage to look at it for a few minutes before closing my eyes and hoping my lunch doesn't make an reappearance. I can almost feel Megan fainting. _Ha, now that's a change,_ I thought grimly to myself, _Megan instead of Celia fainting._

Wait what.

I almost start to hyperventilate, when I realize I just said Celia. In my mind, but still. Did I change personas self-consciously? Did it happen when I was telling Sherlock off? Am I Celia, or Shirley?! Calm down girl, happy thoughts. Bunnies and unicorns. I breathe deep, and seek peace.

_Bunnies and Unicorns calming me down? Yup, I'm Celia, not Shirley. Definitely Celia. _ But just to be safe…..

I risk a quick glance at Sherlock, who seemed to have been studying me. His head was cocked slightly to the side and when his ice-blue eyes met mine, I felt a shiver go down my spine and I immediately turned away. Okay, enough evidence, I'm Celia. My name is Celia Annabelle Lestrade; I am the niece of Greg Lestrade, daughter of Fred and Annabelle Lestrade. I am an only child, I have long brown hair, brown eyes and I am a fan of Sherlock Holmes.

I am Celia.

And that is the absolute truth.

(Note to self: When being a silent vigilante fails, be a poet.)

Anyway, after calming myself down from a panic attack, I took a step back, away from the body. Shortly, Uncle Lessy and Sherlock and John joined me, and I overheard some of their conversations on who was killed. My eyes grew wide as I heard gang and Shirley over and over again. Did they think Shirley joined a gang? I continued to listen to their conversations when I noticed Sherlock wasn't really saying anything. When asked what he thought of it, Sherlock replied, "I need to think about it."

What? Sherlock Holmes, the Greatest Detective Ever needs to think about it?! Wait, what is he really does think Shirley killed that guy? I'll never be able to prove my innocence!

Okay, think rationally here girly, think rationally. Step 1: Steal the case files. That would have to wait until we get back at the police station. Speaking of which, my uncle was calling me over right now. Oh Joy.

"Celia, I need you head back to the station, okay?" He asked me, most likely concerned for my wellbeing. I nodded and smiled. He gave some money for a taxi and I was on my way. But I didn't notice a certain tall dark man watching me as I left gleefully. If I did, things might have ended differently.

Oh who am I kidding? No they won't.

~At the station~

After successfully pulling my puppy-dog eyes as Megan on the man guarding the files, I sat in my uncle's chair, and read as fast as I could. As my eyes scanned over this, I realized the victim wasn't really a nice man. Drugs, assault, weapon charges, attempted murder. This does seem like the guy Shirley would attempt to take down. But someone must have a flair for the dramatic, because really? Blaming Shirley for chopping off someone's head. Reminds me of the Red Queen from Alice in Wonderland. I'm not insane.

(Am I?)

I continue to read the files. Suddenly, I jump up and almost shout with joy. A possible lead!

The victim, whose name was Derek Burnt, was caught stealing from his boss or at least, someone higher up than him. Way, higher up than him, at least to what this file says. I think for a moment, okay, leader of the gang, one of his dogs betrayed him, to keep him quiet, he kills him. But why bring Shirley into this? What's her part? I think I might need to somehow how get closer to this case, as Shirley.

I almost don't hide the file in time when my Uncle walks through the door. He gives me a suspicious look and I high-tail it out of there. Whew, that was close.

~ Shirley time! ~

_No one's POV_

A woman, dressed in a dark blue trench coat and a very familiar hat walk down Baker Street, towards 221b. She opens the door without any trouble and enters the building. She walks up the staircase and slowly steps into the living room.

As suspected, the violin playing stopped when she crossed the threshold. The woman smirks.

"Only two hours? I feel a bit forgotten. Had better things to do?" A man's voice wavered out from where he stood, violin in hand and its bow in the other.

"I had to come prepared." Was her short answer.

Sherlock whirled around to face the woman. Girl would be more appropriate, since she wasn't that old, possibly still a teenager, if his calculations were right.

"I have a favor to ask of you."

If Sherlock laughed, he would have then. The girl, Shirley, narrowed her eyes and scowled.

"I know, I know. I don't deserve it, I have made your life terrible, what do you want me to do?"

She shouldn't have said those words. Sherlock stepped closer to Shirley, staring her down. He replied simply, "Apologize."

Shirley's face looked like she was trying very hard not to smack the arrogant tone out of Sherlock. "Fine," She got out. "I am sorry."

"For?"

If looks could kill, Sherlock would be six feet under. Shirley took a deep breath.

"I am sorry for stealing your name, and identity, (kind of) and I am sorry for troubling you. Now please help me."

"No."

"WHAT?!" She exploded. Shirley stomped her foot down. "Without your help, I will go to jail!"

"I don't care. It's not my problem." Shirley raised her fist, "Oh I'm about to make it your problem!"

"I always knew you were violent."

The silent vigilante took a step back and tried to hold in her anger. Calming herself down, she asked him, "Why won't you help me?"

Sherlock smirked at her and answered, "You're supposed to be like me, correct? Then solve it on your own. It's painfully simple." Shirley was gob smacked **(love that word!) **at his answer and replied.

"I know what and how it happened; I just need your help to prove it!"

"No." He told her. "No, if I were you, I would leave before the police come." He turned back to his violin played and Shirley calmly turned around and walked out of 221b, and onto Baker Street to call a cab. Swearing Sherlock Holmes's name as she went.

~Back at Celia's place~

Ms. Gold was getting suspicious of that girl Celia, who lived next door. Always going and coming in the middle of the night, making such rackets. And plus, that weird boy with short brown who came out of her apartment! Why, he looked like a hoodlum! With baggy jeans, and a gratified hoodie, it's no wonder why. But the weirdest thing was that she never saw him go in! Only that Celia came home around four, and then two hours later, that boy walked out.

_Boy's POV_

Dang it, that nosy Ms. Gold saw me leaving. Now Celia will have nasty rumors about her floating around the complex. Hopefully, this charade won't last too long. I know how much Celia hates dressing up as a boy.

**BAM! The end! Didn't see that coming, did you? Guitarrawr1, that was for you. That small tidbit at the end. Have you've guessed who it was? See you soon, hopefully! Proabaly won't update for a few while, got homework, and another story I want to work on! Please review, more reviews equal…. More reviews! Anyway, please review, and check out my other story, 'Kate, Lion?' I am gonna put it up soon!**

**~GiraffePanda2**

**Next time on Shirley and Sherlock:**

**Stuff happens….**


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